


growing pains

by nothingbutniall



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: F/M, babies in love, basically they have a bit of a domestic argument, but it's still sweet and fluffy, communication is key, idk how to tag this, no imminent breakup or whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 06:38:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20326750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingbutniall/pseuds/nothingbutniall
Summary: Of all the things they could fight about, the dishwasher turns out to be the catalysator for their first domestic crisis.(Nowhere near as angsty as it sounds, I promise.)





	growing pains

**Author's Note:**

> No matter how much I plan a fic, these characters always find a way to turn it around, don't they?

Of all the things they could fight about, the dishwasher turns out to be the catalysator for their first domestic crisis.

It’s not the first time Senne has stacked dirty dishes in the sink because he couldn’t be bothered to unload the dishwasher after a cycle. In fact, Zoë had made him do the dishes by hand just a few days ago, hoping it would finally convince him to use the dishwasher properly, but alas.

(Maybe it didn’t help that she’d been drying the dishes and they’d ended up splashing water at each other, swatting damp towels against each other’s bare arms. The dishes may have been clean, but they were in need of a shower. All in all, not very effective, considering Senne’s love for shared showers.)

So here Zoë stands, faced with a pile of dishes after she’s just come back from an evening out with her friends. She’d been in a sour mood already, annoyed by a guy in the café who refused to accept that she wasn’t interested in him, nor in his skills in bed. He’d gone as far as laying an arm around her shoulders, whispering in her ear, at which point an older man stepped in and gave him a stern talking to.

The sight of her favourite mug balanced precariously on top of a wobbly pile of plates makes something inside her stir angrily.

She wants to call out for Senne to clean up his goddamn mess just this fucking once, but Lisa and Milan are probably asleep already, so she slams an open cupboard closed instead, another one of Senne’s habits that seemed cute the first couple of days, but has proven a safety hazard on multiple occasions. Zoë can’t count the number of times she’s knocked her head into a cupboard door when she stumbles into the kitchen sleep drunk, but she’s pretty sure two hands would not suffice.

She hears her door open when she’s halfway down the hall, Senne appearing in front of her, hair tousled like he had a nap on the sofa earlier.

He’s got a soft smile on his lips, the sort that only Zoë is lucky enough to get, and the furious monster inside her recoils slightly. Senne’s arms open and she steps into his embrace, anger fizzling out further as she melts into his body.

“You left the dishes out again,” she says in lieu of greeting, just a hint of a bite to her words.

He kisses her forehead. “I’ll do them tomorrow.”

Zoë raises an eyebrow at him, and he shrugs innocently. They both know he won’t; he’ll forget until Zoë nags him about it.

Rather than calling him out on his empty promise, she adds: “And you left the cupboard open.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, sounding more like he says it to appease her. It makes the annoyance in Zoë’s stomach flare up again.

“Don’t apologise if you don’t mean it.”

Senne frowns, taking a step back so they can look at each other properly. “What’s got you acting so weird?”

She crosses her arms over her chest defensively, brows furrowing. “I’m not acting weird.”

“Uh, yeah, you are.”

She steps past him into her room. Their room.

A hand closes around her biceps. “Zoë. Don’t ignore me.”

Jerking away, her vision goes red as she takes in the state of the room. The bed is a mess, sheets crumpled on top. There’s an empty glass on the bedside table, a half-eaten bag of crisps on the floor. In the middle of the walkway between the door and the window, an odd sock lays forgotten, as if Senne is trying to mark his territory.

“Jesus Christ, Senne, can you clean up after yourself for once in your fucking life?” Her voice is loud, too loud for the late hour, and he shushes her.

“I fell asleep,” he tells her as he picks up the crisps bag and rolls it closed, putting it on the desk.”

“You always do this. You always make a mess.”

His gaze hardens. “Excuse me? Do I need to remind you who trashed the living room with her friends just last week?”

“_Your_ friend dumped _my_ friend. Sorry for prioritising emotional support over clean-up.”

“Sorry for prioritising my health over clean-up,” he copies. “I told you I had a headache. Or is my wellbeing not important?”

They’re standing opposite each other, chests heaving with built-up frustration, eyes locked.

Senne is the first to crumble. “Zo. Come on, come to bed. I’ll tidy tomorrow.”

She refuses to drop it. “It’s not about the mess, Senne.”

A confused look takes over his features. “Isn’t it?”

Regret settles in her stomach as soon as the words leave her mouth. She just wants to sleep. Her brain feels like it’s not wired correctly today and all she wants it to curl up in Senne’s arms and be sad without having to explain herself.

But she started it, so there is no turning back now. “It’s you not bothering to worry about chores, because you know I’ll pick up where you slack. It’s you waiting for me to point things out before doing them.”

She’s not angry at Senne anymore, never really was in the first place. She’s angry at society for treating boys differently than girls, angry at the guy who ruined her night out, angry at herself for feeling responsible when she shouldn’t.

It’s easy to take it out on Senne though. Zoë isn’t usually one for confrontation, doesn’t easily voice what’s bothering her. She’s a pleaser, scared to lose more than she’s willing to if she goes in head first, but it’s different with Senne. She knows she can push, knows she can put down her foot and argue with him, because she also knows he’s not leaving, that their bond can withstand a few storms.

She can fight him because he knows how her brain works, knows it’s not a personal attack but rather the result of too many thoughts threatening to explode her head from the inside out.

Senne cocks his head, studying her. “You know what I think the real issue is?”

She shakes her head, lowering her gaze so it doesn’t feel like he’s staring straight into her soul.

“Different perspectives on how a household should be run. You do things as they come up, whereas I prefer doing it all in one go, which means things get left for a little while and annoy you.”

Her shoulders lift in some sort of half shrug. He’s not completely wrong, but it’s not quite all there is to it. She just doesn’t know how to tell him that sometimes it feels like he’s intruding on her personal space, that she misses missing him.

They’re together most hours of the day, and although she loves Senne, she occasionally finds herself wondering if maybe they want too much, too quickly.

She closes the distance between them and wraps her arms around his waist as she breathes him in. When she closes her eyes, she can pretend the mess isn’t there.

“Board meeting tomorrow?” she asks quietly. It’s something Senne came up with soon after he moved in, a way to discuss things before they get out of hand. Their number one rule is to not go to bed angry, but sometimes things are too big, too emotional to resolve in the middle of the night. This is one of those things – Zoë knows they need to let it rest, knows she needs to let her brain calm down before she can put words to her feelings. There’s no use communicating when the words aren’t there.

Senne nods, one hand stroking up and down her spine as the other cradles her head.

The board meeting might be scheduled, but Zoë stills feels inexplicably sad and a bit needy, so she says: “It makes me feel unseen. When you leave this place a mess.” She tucks her head in the curve of his neck. “Like you don’t care.” The _about me_ goes unspoken. She knows Senne doesn’t intentionally forget to do his chores, but six weeks of playful ribbing have only got her so far, and she’s tired in more ways than one.

“Baby,” he murmurs, arms tightening around her. He stays silent after that, like he doesn’t really know how to make it better.

Zoë runs her fingers across his hip, feels his abdominal muscles contract slightly at the sensation. Even just being in his arms is starting to make her feel more settled, the whirlwind inside her head slowing to a gentle breeze.

Pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek, she steps out of his arms and makes her way to the bathroom. She can hear the springs creak when Senne gets under the sheets.

A deep sigh passes her lips as she spots the open toilet lid, and for a second, she entertains the idea of knocking Senne’s tooth brush over so it accidentally falls in, but she’s not actually that mean. (She does switch his gentle toothpaste for an extra strong mint one, because she might not be mean, but she is petty.)

The bed is warm when she gets in, Senne tangling their feet together straight away.

“I’ve got something for you.”

“Hm?”

He dangles something above her head. When she looks up, she recognises the sock that had been on the ground earlier, and she raises her eyebrows, giving him an unimpressed look.

His eyes shine. “You’re a free elf, Zoë.”

It’s so lame she doesn’t even dignify him with a response, simply rolls her eyes at him and turns around. “Good night, loser.”

“Night, Zoë.” He settles in behind her, slotting their bodies together, and she can feel his lips curl into a smile at the base of her neck.

She falls asleep with a matching smile of her own.

They might be young, might still have a lot to learn, but they’ll be doing it together, every single step of the way. Even if it means she’ll have to endure dumb Harry Potter jokes for the rest of her life.

**Author's Note:**

> my heartttt
> 
> Comments and kudos mean a lot. You can also find me on Twitter (@nothingbutniall)!


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